Familiar Quotations
Author: Various
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Line 221.

Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

Line 244.

Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?

Line 256.

Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul And lap it in Elysium.

Line 381.

He that has light within his own clear breast May sit i' th' center and enjoy bright day; But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the midday sun,

Line 476.

How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose; But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.

Line 560.

I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the rib of Death.

* * * * *


Line 10.

He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.

Line 14.

Without the meed of some melodious tear.

Line 70.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble minds) To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life.

Line 101.

Built in the eclipse and rigged with curses dark.

Line 109.

The pilot of the Galilean lake.

Line 168.

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, with new spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.

Line 198.

To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.

* * * * *


Line 27.

Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles.

Line 33.

Come, and trip it as you go, On the light, fantastic toe.

Line 67.

And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.

Line 79.

Where perhaps some beauty lies, The Cynosure of neighboring eyes.

Line 117.

Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men.

Line 133.

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.

Line 136.

Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out.

* * * * *


Line 39.

And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.

Line 61.

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!

Line 106.

Such notes, as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.

Line 120.

Where more is meant than meets the ear.

Line 159.

And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim, religious light.

* * * * *

Sonnet to the Lady Margaret Ley.

That old man eloquent.

* * * * *

Sonnet on his Blindness.

They also serve who only stand and wait.

* * * * *

Second Sonnet to Cyriac Skinner.

Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer Right onward.

* * * * *

Sonnet on his Deceased Wife.

But oh! as to embrace me she inclined, I waked; she fled; and day brought back my night.

SAMUEL BUTLER. 1612-1680.


Part i. Canto i. Line 51

Besides, 'tis known he could speak Greek As naturally as pigs squeak.

Part i. Canto i. Line 67

He could distinguish, and divide A hair, 'twixt south and southwest side.

Part i. Canto i. Line 81

For rhetoric, he could not ope His mouth, but out there flew a trope.

Part i. Canto i. Line 131.

Whatever sceptic could inquire for, For every why he had a wherefore.

Part i. Canto i. Line 149

He knew whit's what, and that's as high As metaphysic wit can fly.

Part i. Canto i. Line 199

And prove their doctrine orthodox By Apostolic blows and knocks.

Part i. Canto i. Line 215

Compound for sins they are inclined to, By damning those they have no mind to.

Part i. Canto i. Line 463

For rhyme the rudder is of verses, With which, like ships, they steer their courses.

Part i. Canto i. Line 489

He ne'er considered it, as loth To look a gift-horse in the mouth.

Part i. Canto i. Line 821

Quoth Hudibras, "I smell a rat; Ralpho, thou dost prevaricate."

Part i. Canto i. Line 852

Or shear swine, all cry and no wool.

Part i. Canto ii. Line 633

And bid the devil take the hin'most, Which at this race is like to win most.

Part i. Canto ii. Line 831

With many a stiff thwack, many a bang, Hard crab-tree and old iron rang.

Part i. Canto iii. Line 1

Ay me! what perils do environ The man that meddles with cold iron.

Part i. Canto iii. Line 263

Nor do I know what is become Of him, more than the Pope of Rome.

Part i. Canto iii. Line 309

H' had got a hurt O' th' inside of a deadlier sort.

Part i. Canto iii. Line 877

I am not now in fortune's power; He that is down can fall no lower.

Part i. Canto iii. Line 1367

Thou hast Outrun the Constable at last.

Part ii. Canto i. Line 29

For one for sense, and one for rhyme, I think's sufficient at one time.

Part ii. Canto i. Line 465

For what is worth in anything, But so much money as 'twill bring.

Part ii. Canto n. Line 29

The sun had long since in the lap Of Thetis taken out his nap, And, like a lobster boiled, the morn From black to red began to turn.

Part ii. Canto ii. Line 79

Have always been at daggers-drawing. And one another clapper-clawing.

Part ii. Canto ii Line 503

And look before you ere you leap; For as you sow, y' are like to reap.

Part ii. Canto iii. Line 1.

Doubtless the pleasure is as great Of being cheated, as to cheat.

Part ii. Canto iii. Line 261.

He made an instrument to know If the moon shine at full or no.... And prove that she's not made of green cheese.[6]

[Note 6: "The moon is made of a green cheese" Jack Jugler, p. 46.]

Part ii. Canto iii. Line 580

You have a wrong sow by the ear.

Part ii. Canto iii. Line 923

To swallow gudgeons ere they're catched, And count their chickens ere they're hatched.

Part ii. Canto iii. Line 1067

As quick as lightning, in the breach Just in the place where honor 's lodged, As wise philosophers have judged, Because a kick in that place more Hurts honor than deep wounds before,

Part iii. Canto i. Line 3

As he that has two strings t' his bow.

Part iii. Canto ii. Line 175.

True as the dial to the sun, Although it be not sinned upon.

Part iii. Canto iii. Line 243

For those that fly may fight again, Which he can never do that's slain.

* * * * *

Part iii. Canto iii. Line 547

He that complies against his will Is of his own opinion still.

* * * * *


Song, "My Dear and only Love."

I'll make thee famous by my pen, And glorious by my sword.

* * * * *

DRYDEN. 1631-1700.

Alexander's feast.

Line 15.

None but the brave deserves the fair.

Line 60.

Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Line 66.

Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain.

Line 78,

Fallen from his high estate, And weltering in his blood; Deserted, at his utmost need, By those his former bounty fed; On the bare earth exposed he lies, With not a friend to close his eyes.

Line 96.

For pity melts the mind to love.

Line 99.

War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honor, but an empty bubble.

Line 106.

Take the good the gods provide thee.

Line 120

Sighed and looked, and sighed again.

Line 154.

And, like another Helen, fired another Troy.

Line 160.

Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.

Line 169.

He raided a mortal to the skies She drew an angel down.

* * * * *

Cymon and Iphigenia.

Line 84.

He trudged along, unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of thought.

Absalom and Achitophet.

A fiery soul, which, working out its way Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er informed the tenement of clay.

Part i. Line 363

Great wits are sure to madness near allied, And thin partitions do their bounds divide.

Part i. Line 174

Resolved to ruin or to rule the state.

Part i. Line 534

Who think too little, and who talk too much

Part i. Line 545

A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome; Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts, and nothing long.

Part i. Line 1005

Beware the fury of a patient man.

Part ii. Line 463

For every inch, that is not fool, is rogue.

* * * * *

All for Love. Prologue.

Errors like straws upon the surface flow; He who would search for pearls must dive below.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

Men are but children of a larger growth.

Conquest of Grenada. Part i. Sc. 1.

I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.

* * * * *

Spanish Friar. Act ii. Sc. 1.

There is a pleasure In being mad which none but madmen know.

Don Sebastian. Act i. Sc. 1.

This is the porcelain clay of human kind.

* * * * *

Translation of Juvenal's 10th Satire.

Look round the habitable world, how few Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue.

* * * * *

Prologue to Lee's Sophonisba.

Thespis, the first professor of our art, At country wakes sung ballads from a cart.

* * * * *

Imitation of the 29th of Horace.

Book i. Line 65.

Happy the man, and happy he alone, He, who can call to-day his own: He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day.

* * * * *

On Milton.

Three Poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn; The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, The next in majesty, in both the last. The force of nature could no further go; To make a third she joined the other two.

* * * * *

JOHN BUNYAN. 1628-1688.

Apology for his Book.

And so I penned It down, until at last it came to be, For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.

* * * * *

Some said, "John, print it," others said, "Not so." Some said, "It might do good," others said, "No."

* * * * *

Pilgrim's Progress.

The Slough of Despond.

* * * * *


Essay on Translated Verse.

Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense.

* * * * *


Written on the Bedchamber Door of Charles II.

Here lies our sovereign lord the king, Whose word no man relies on; He never says a foolish thing, Nor ever does a wise one.

* * * * *


Written in Parliament attending the Discussion of Lord Boss' Divorce Bill.

As good as a play.

* * * * *


Essay on Poetry.

Of all those arts in which the wise excel, Nature's chief masterpiece is writing well.

There's no such thing in nature, and you'll draw A faultless monster, which the world ne'er saw.

* * * * *

Read Homer once, and you can read no more, For all books else appear so mean, so poor; Verse will seem prose; but still persist to read, And Homer will be all the books you need.

* * * * *

THOMAS OTWAY. 1651-1685.

Venice Preserved.

Act i. Sc. 1.

O woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you. Angels are painted fair to look like you.

* * * * *

JOHN NORRIS. 1657-1711.

The Parting.

How fading are the joys we dote upon! Like apparitions seen and gone; But those which soonest take their flight Are the most exquisite and strong; Like angel's visits, short and bright, Mortality's too weak to bear them long.

* * * * *

NATHANIEL LEE. 1655-1692.

Alexander the Great.

Act i. Sc. 3.

Then he will talk—ye gods, how he will talk!

Act iv. Sc. 2.

When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug of war.

* * * * *

TOM BROWN. —1704.

Dialogues of the Dead.

I do not love thee, Doctor Fell, The reason why I cannot tell; But this alone I know full well, I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.[7]

[Note 7: "Non amo te, Sabidi, nee possum dicere quare; Hoc tautum possum dicere, non amo te." Martial, Ep. I. xxxiii.]

* * * * *



Act ii. Sc. 1.

Pity's akin to love.

DANIEL DEFOE. 1661-1731.

The True-Born Englishman.

Part i. Line 1

Wherever God erects a house of prayer, The Devil always builds a chapel there; And 'twill be found upon examination, The latter has the largest congregation.

* * * * *

LOUIS THEOBALD. 1688-1744.

The Double Falsehood.

None but himself can be his parallel.

* * * * *

MATTHEW PRIOR. 1664-1721.

English Padlock.

Be to her virtues very kind; Be to her faults a little blind.

* * * * *

Henry and Emma.

That air and harmony of shape express, Fine by degrees, and beautifully less.

* * * * *

The Thief and the Cordelier.

Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart, And often took leave; but was loth to depart.

Epilogue to Lucius.

And the gray mare will prove the better horse.[8]

[Note 8: See Hudibras, Part ii. Canto ii. line 698. Mr. Macaulay thinks that this proverb originated in the preference generally given to the gray mares of Flanders over the finest coach-horses of England.—History of England, Vol. I. Ch. 3.]

* * * * *

Imitations of Horace.

Of two evils I have chose the least.

* * * * *

Epitaph on Himself.

Here lies what once was Matthew Prior; The son of Adam and of Eve: Can Bourbon or Nassau claim higher?

* * * * *

Ode in Imitation of Horace. B. iii. Od. 2.

And virtue is her own reward.

* * * * *

COLLEY CIBBER. 1671-1757.

Richard III.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

Off with his head! so much for Buckingham!

Act v. Sc. 3.

Richard is himself again!

* * * * *

JOSEPH ADDISON. 1672-1719.


Act i. Sc. 1.

The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers, And heavily in clouds brings on the day, The great, th' important day, big with the fate Of Cato, and of Home.

Act i. Sc. 1.

Thy steady temper, Portius, Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Caesar, In the calm lights of mild philosophy.

Act i. Sc. 1.

'Tis not in mortals to command success, But we'll do more, Sempronius: we'll deserve it.

Act i. Sc. 1.

'Tis pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul; I think the Romans call it Stoicism.

Act i. Sc. 1.

Were you with these, my prince, you'd soon forget The pale unripened beauties of the North.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

My voice is still for war. Gods! can a Roman Senate long debate Which of the two to choose, slavery or death?

Act iv. Sc. 1.

The woman that deliberates is lost.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

When vice prevails, and impious men bear sway, The post of honor is a private station.

Act v. Sc. 1.

It must be so.—Plato, thou reasonest well. Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality?

* * * * *

'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates Eternity to man.

Act v. Sc. I.

I'm weary of conjectures.

Act v. Sc. 1.

The soul secured in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.

Act v. Sc. 1.

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds

* * * * *

The Campaign.

And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm.[9]

* * * * *

[Note 9: This line has been frequently ascribed to Pope, as it is found in the Dunciad, Book iii., line 261.]

From the Letter on Italy.

For wheresoe'er I turn my ravished eyes, Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise; Poetic fields encompass me around, And still I seem to tread on classic ground.[10]

[Note 10: Malone states that this was the first time the phrase classic ground, since so common, was ever used.]

* * * * *


The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue, ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim.

* * * * *

Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth; While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their tarn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.

* * * * *

Forever singing, as they shine, The hand that made us is divine.

JONATHAN SWIFT. 1667-1745.

Imitation of Horace. B. ii. Sat. 6.

I've often wished that I had clear, For life, six hundred pounds a year, A handsome house to lodge a friend, A river at my garden's end.

* * * * *

Poetry, a Rhapsody.

So geographers, in Afric maps, With savage pictures fill their gaps, And o'er unhabitable downs Place elephants for want of towns.

* * * * *


The Mourning Bride. Act i. Sc. 1.

Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

* * * * *

By magic numbers and persuasive sound.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned.

ALEXANDER POPE. 1688-1744.


Epistle i. Line 5.

Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man; A mighty maze! but not without a plan.

Line 13.

Eye nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise.

Line 88.

A hero perish or a sparrow fall.

Line 95.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest.

Line 99.

Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind.

Line 200.

Die of a rose in aromatic pain?

Line 294.

One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.

Epistle ii. Line 1.

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man.[11]

[Note 11: From Charron (de la Sagesse):—"La vraye science et le vray etude de l'homme c'est l'homme."]

Line 217.

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As to be hated, needs but to be seen; But seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

Line 231.

Virtuous and vicious every man must be, Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree.

Line 276.

Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw. Epistle iii. Line 305. For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight; His can't be wrong whose life is in the right. Epistle iv. Line 49. Order is Heaven's first law.

Line 193.

Honor and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part—there all the honor lies.

Line 203.

Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella.

Line 215.

What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.

Line 247.

A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod; An honest man's the noblest work of God.

Line 254.

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.

Line 281.

Think how Bacon shined, The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind.

Line 310.

Virtue alone is happiness below.

Line 330.

Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, But looks through nature up to nature's God.

Line 379.

Formed by thy converse happily to steer Prom grave to gay, from lively to severe.

* * * * *


Epistle i. Line 135.

'Tis from high life high characters are drawn— A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn.

Line 149.

'Tis education forms the common mind: Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined.

Line 246.

Odious! in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke, Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke. Epistle ii. Line 15. Whether the charmers sinner it or saint it, If folly grow romantic, I must paint it.

Line 43.

Fine by defect and delicately weak.

Line 97.

With too much quickness ever to be taught, With too much thinking to have common thought.

Line 215.

Men, some to business, some to pleasure take; But every woman is at heart a rake.

Line 268.

And mistress of herself, though china fall.

Line 270.

Woman's at best a contradiction still. Epistle iii. Line 1. Who shall decide when doctors disagree?

Line 95.

But thousands die without or this or that, Die, and endow a college or a cat.

Line 153.

The ruling passion, be it what it will, The ruling passion conquers reason still.

Line 161.

Extremes in nature equal good produce.

Line 250.

Rise, honest muse! and sing—The man of Ross.

Line 285.

Who builds a church to God, and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name.

* * * * *


Part i. Line 9.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches; none Go just alike, yet each believes his own.

Line 153.

And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art.

Part ii. Line 215.

A little learning is a dangerous thing. Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.

Line 232.

Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise,

Line 297.

True wit is nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.

Line 357.

That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along.

Line 362.

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance.

Line 365.

The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

Line 525.

To err is human: to forgive, divine.

Part iii. Line 625.

For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

* * * * *


Line 54.

By strangers honored and by strangers mourned

* * * * *

And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances and the public show.

* * * * *


Canto ii. Line 7.

On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore, Which Jews might kiss and infidels adore.

Canto ii. Line 17.

If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.

Canto iii. Line 16.

At every word a reputation dies.

Line 21.

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang, that jurymen may dine.

* * * * *

SATIRES AND IMITATIONS OF HORACE Prologue, Line 1. Shut, shut the door, good John.

Line 12.

E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath day to me.

Line 18.

Who pens a stanza when he should engross.

Line 127.

As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisped in numbers, for the numbers came.

Line 197.

Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne,

Line 201.

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering teach the rest to sneer.

Line 308.

Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

Line 333.

Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust. Book ii. Satire i. Line 6. Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day.

Line 69.

Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet To run a muck, and tilt at all I meet.

Line 127.

Then St. John mingles with my friendly bowl, The feast of reason and the flow of soul.

Book ii. Satire ii. Line 159.

For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best, Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.[12]

[Note 12: See the Odyssey, Book xv. line 83.]

Book ii. Epistle i. Line 108.

The mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease.

* * * * *

Epilogue to the Satires.

Dialogue i. Line 136.

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

Epitaph on Gay.

Of manners gentle, of affections mild; In wit a man, simplicity a child.

* * * * *


Book i. Line 54.

And solid pudding against empty praise.

Book iii. Line 158.

All crowd, who foremost shall be damned to fame.

Book iii. Line 165.

Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls, And makes night hideous; answer him, ye owls.

Book iv. Line 614.

E'en Palinurus nodded at the helm.

* * * * *


Book ii. Line 315.

Few sons attain the praise Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.

Book xiv. Line 410.

Far from gay cities and the ways of men.

Book xv. Line 79.

Who love too much, hate in the like extreme.

Book xv. Line 83.

True friendship's laws are by this rule expressed, Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.

* * * * *

Windsor forest.

Thus, if small things we may with great compare.

* * * * *

Martinus Scriblerus on the Art of Sinking in Poetry.

Chapter xi.

Ye Gods! annihilate but space and time, And make two lovers happy.

* * * * *

Epitaph on the Hon. S. Harcourt.

Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died.

* * * * *

THOMAS TICKELL. 1686-1740.

On the Death of Addison. Line 45.

Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss conveyed A fairer spirit, or more welcome shade.

Line 79.

There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

Colin and Lucy.

I hear a voice you cannot hear, Which says I must not stay, I see a hand you cannot see, Which beckons me away.

* * * * *

JOHN GAY. 1688-1732.

What D'ye Call 't.

Act ii. Sc. 9.

So comes a reckoning when the banquet's o'er, The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more.

* * * * *

Beggars' Opera.

Act i. Sc. 1.

O'er the hills and far away.

* * * * *

How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear charmer away.


The Shepherd and the Philosopher.

Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?

* * * * *

The Mother, the Nurse, and the Fairy.

When yet was ever found a mother Who'd give her booby for another?

* * * * *

The Sick Man and the Angel.

While there is life there's hope, he cried.

* * * * *

The Hare and Many Friends.

And when a lady's in the case, You know all other things give place.

* * * * *

Epitaph on Himself.

Life's a jest, and all things show it; I thought so once, and now I know it.

* * * * *


The Lady's Resolve.

Let this great maxim be my virtue's guide— In part she is to blame that has been tried; He comes too near, that comes to be denied.

NICHOLAS ROWE. 1673-1718.

The Fair Penitent.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

Is she not more than painting can express, Or youthful poets fancy when they love?

Act v. Sc. 1.

Is this that gallant, gay Lothario?

* * * * *

JOHN PHILIPS. 1676-1708.

Splendid Shilling.

Line 121.

My galligaskins, that have long withstood The winter's fury and encroaching frosts, By time subdued (what will not time subdue?) A horrid chasm disclosed.

* * * * *

THOMAS PARNELL. 1679-1718.

The Hermit. Line 5.

Remote from men, with God he passed his days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.

BARTON BOOTH. 1681-1733.


True as the needle to the pole, Or as the dial to the sun.

* * * * *

MATTHEW GREEN. 1696-1737.

The Spleen. Line 93.

Fling but a stone, the giant dies.

* * * * *

JOHN BYROM. 1691-1763.

'On the Feuds between Handel and Bononcini.[13]

Some say, compared to Bononcini, That Mynheer Handel's but a ninny; Others aver that he to Handel Is scarcely fit to hold a candle. Strange all this difference should be 'Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

[Note 13: "Nourse asked me if I had seen the verses upon Handel and Bononcini, not knowing that they were mine." Byrom's Remains (Cheltenham Soc), Vol. I. p 173. The last two lines have been attributed to Switt and Pope. Vide Scott's edition of Swift, and Dyce's edition of Pope.]

* * * * *

The Astrologer.

As clear as a whistle.

* * * * *

Epigram on Two Monopolists.

Bone and skin, two millers thin, Would starve us all, or near it; But be it known to Skin and Bone That Flesh and Blood can't bear it.

* * * * *


On the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning in America.

Westward the course of empire takes its way; The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day; Time's noblest offspring is the last.

* * * * *

ROBERT BLAIR. 1699-1746.

The Grave. Part ii. Line 586.

The good he scorned, Stalked off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost, Not to return; or if it did, in visits Like those of angels, short and far between.

* * * * *

EDWARD YOUNG. 1681-1765.


Night i. Line 1.

Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!

Night i. Line 55.

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss.

Night i. Line 154.

To waft a feather or to drown a fly.

Night i. Line 390.

Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer.

Night i. Line 393.

Procrastination is the thief of time.

Night i. Line 417.

At thirty man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan.

Night i. Line 424.

All men think all men mortal but themselves.

Night ii. Line 376.

'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.

Night ii. Line 602.

How blessings brighten as they take their flight!

Night ii. Line 633.

The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.

Night iii. Line 81.

Beautiful as sweet! And young as beautiful! and soft as young! And gay as soft! and innocent as gay!

Night iii. Line 104

Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay.

Night iv. Line 10.

The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave, The deep, damp vault, the darkness, and the worm.

Night iv. Line 15.

Man makes a death, which nature never made.

Night iv. Line 118.

Man wants but little, nor that little long.

Night v. Line 775.

The man of wisdom is the man of years.

Night v. Line 1011.

Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.

Night vi. Line 309.

Pygmies are pygmies still, though perched on Alps. And pyramids are pyramids in vales.

Night vi. Line 606.

And all may do what has by man been done.

Night vii. Line 496.

The man that blushes is not quite a brute.

Night ix. Line 771.

An undevout astronomer is mad.

Night ix. Line 1660.

Emblazed to seize the sight; who runs, may read.

* * * * *


Satire i. Line 89.

Some, for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.

Satire i. Line 238.

None think the great unhappy, but the great.

Satire ii. Line 207.

Where nature's end of language is declined, And men talk only to conceal their mind.[14]

[Note 14: "Ils n'emploient les paroles que pour deguiser leurs pensees "—Voltaire.]

Satire vii. Line 97.

How commentators each dark passage shun, And hold their farthing candle to the sun.[15]

[Note 15: Imitated by Crabbe in the Parish Register, Part I., Introduction, and taken originally from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, Part III. Sec. 2. Mem. 1. Subs 2. "But to enlarge or illustrate this power or effects of love is to set a candle in the sun."]

Lines Written with the Diamond Pencil of Lord Chesterfield.

Accept a miracle, instead of wit, See two dull lines with Stanhope's pencil writ.

* * * * *

HENRY CAREY. 1663-1743.

God save the King.[16]

God save our gracious king, Long live our noble king, God save the king.

[Note 16: The authorship both of the words and music of "God save the King" has long been a matter of dispute, and is still unsettled, though the weight of the evidence is in favor of Carey's claim.]

* * * * *

Chrononhotonthologos. Act i. Sc. 3.

To thee, and gentle Rigdum Funnidos, Our gratulations flow in streams unbounded.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

Go call a coach, and let a coach be called, And let the man who calleth be the caller; And in his calling let him nothing call But Coach! Coach! Coach! O for a coach, ye gods!

ISAAC WATTS. 1674-1748.


To God the Father, God the Son, And God the Spirit, three in one, Be honor, praise, and glory given, By all on earth, and all in heaven.

* * * * *

Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber Holy angels guard thy bed! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.

* * * * *

Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight. For 'tis their nature too.

* * * * *

How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day, From every opening flower.

* * * * *

Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound. 'Tis the voice of the sluggard, I heard him complain, "You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."


Adventures of Five Hours. Act v. Sc. 3.

He is a fool who thinks by force or skill To turn the current of a woman's will.

* * * * *

AARON HILL 1685-1750.

Epilogue to Zara.

First, then, a woman will, or won't—depend on 't; If she will do 't, she will; and there's an end on 't. But, if she won't, since safe and sound your trust is, Fear is affront: and jealousy injustice.[17]

* * * * *

Verses Written on a Window in Scotland.

Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And it stings you for your pains; Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains.

[Note 17: The following lines are copied from the pillar erected on the mount in the Dane John Field, Canterbury: "Where is the man who has the power and skill To stem the torrent of a woman's will? For if she will, she will, you may depend on 't; And if she won't, she won't; so there's an end on't."]

'Tis the same with common natures: Use 'em kindly, they rebel; But be rough as nutmeg-graters, And the rogues obey you well.

* * * * *

RICHARD SAVAGE. 1698-1743.

The Bastard. Line 7.

He lives to build, not boast a generous race: No tenth transmitter of a foolish face.

* * * * *


Spring. Line 283.

Base envy withers at another's joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach.

Line 465.

But who can paint Like Nature? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?

Line 1149.

Delightful task! to rear the tender thought,— To teach the young idea how to shoot,—

Line 1158.

An elegant sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books. Ease and alternate labor, useful life, Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven!

* * * * *

Summer. Line 1188.

Sighed and looked unutterable things.

Line 1285.

A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs.

Line 1346.

So stands the statue that enchants the world.

* * * * *

Autumn. Line 204.

Loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is when unadorned, adorned the most.

Line 283.

For still the world prevailed, and its dread laugh, Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn.

* * * * *

Winter. Line 393.

Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave.

* * * * *

Hymn. Line 25.

Shade, unperceived, so softening into shade.

Line 114.

From seeming evil still educing good.

Line 118.

Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise.

* * * * *

Castle of Indolence. Canto i. St. 69.

A little round, fat, oily man of God.

* * * * *

Alfred. Act ii. Sc. 5.

Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves; Britons never will be slaves.

* * * * *

Song, "Forever, Fortune."

Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love; And, when we meet a mutual heart, Step rudely in, and bid us part?

* * * * *

Sophonisba. Act iii. Sc. 2.

O Sophonisba! Sophonisba, O![18]

[Note 18: This line was altered, after the second edition, to "O Sophonisba! I am wholly thine."]

* * * * *

JOHN DYER. 1700-1758.

Grongar Hill. Line 163.

Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view.

Line 123.

As yon summits soft and fair, Clad in colors of the air, Which to those who journey near Barren, brown, and rough appear.

* * * * *


Epigram on his Family Arms.

Live while you live, the epicure would say, And seize the pleasures of the present day; Live while you live, the sacred preacher cries, And give to God each moment as it flies. Lord, in my views let both united be; I live in pleasure, when I live to thee.

* * * * *


The Parting Kiss.

One kind kiss before we part, Drop a tear and bid adieu; Though we sever, my fond heart Till we meet shall pant for you.

* * * * *

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 1709-1784.

Prologue on the Opening of Drury Lane Theatre.

Each exchange of many-colored life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new, And panting time toiled after him in vain.

* * * * *

For we that live to please must please to live.

* * * * *

Vanity of Human Wishes.

Line 1.

Let observation with extensive view Survey mankind, from China to Peru.[19]

[Note 19: The Universal Love of Pleasure, line 1: "All human race, from China to Peru, Pleasure, however disguised by art, pursue." Rev. Thos. Warton.]

Line 159.

There mark what ills the scholar's life assail— Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.

Line 221.

He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.

Line 257.

Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know That life protracted is protracted woe.

Line 306.

Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage.

Line 318.

And Swift expires, a driveller and a show.

Line 346.

Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate.

London. Line 166.

Of all the griefs that harass the distressed, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.

Line 176.

This mournful truth is everywhere confessed, Slow rises worth by poverty depressed.

* * * * *

Lines added to Goldsmith's Traveller.

How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! Still to ourselves in every place consigned, Our own felicity we make or find. With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.

* * * * *

Line added to Goldsmith's Deserted Village.

Trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay.

* * * * *

From Dr. Madden's "Boulter's Monument."

Supposed to have been inserted by Dr. Johnson. 1745.

Words are men's daughters, but God's sons are things.

Basselas. Chapter i.

Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age will perform the promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow; attend to the history of Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia.

* * * * *

Epitaph on Robert Levett.

In Misery's darkest cavern known, His useful care was ever nigh, Where hopeless Anguish poured his groan, And lonely Want retired to die.

* * * * *

Epitaph on Claudius Phillips, the Musician.

Phillips, whose touch harmonious could remove The pangs of guilty power or hapless love; Rest here, distressed by poverty no more, Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; Sleep, undisturbed, within this peaceful shrine, Till angels wake thee with a note like thine.

* * * * *


Prologue to Thomson's Coriolanus.

For his chaste Muse employed her heaven-taught lyre None but the noblest passions to inspire, Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line, which dying he could wish to blot.


None without hope e'er loved the brightest fair, But love can hope where reason would despair.

* * * * *

Soliloquy on a Beauty in the Country.

Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel; Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle.

* * * * *


Alas! by some degree of woe We every bliss must gain; The heart can ne'er a transport know, That never feels a pain.

* * * * *

EDWARD MOORE. 1712-1757.

Fable IX. The Farmer, the Spaniel, and the Cat.

Can't I another's face commend, And to her virtues be a friend, But instantly your forehead lowers, As if her merit lessened yours?

Fable X. The Spider and the Bee.

The maid who modestly conceals Her beauties, while she hides, reveals; Give but a glimpse, and fancy draws Whate'er the Grecian Venus was.

* * * * *

But from the hoop's bewitching round, Her very shoe has power to wound.

* * * * *

The Happy Marriage.

Time still, as he flies, adds increase to her truth, And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.

* * * * *

The Gamester. Act iii. Sc. 4.

'Tis now the summer of your youth: time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.

* * * * *


Written on the Window of an Inn.

Whoe'er has traveled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found His warmest welcome at an inn.

Jemmy Dawson.

For seldom shall you hear a tale So sad, so tender, and so true.

* * * * *

The Schoolmistress.

Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, Emblems right meet of decency does yield.

* * * * *

JOHN BROWN. 1715-1766.

Barbarossa. Act. v. Sc. 3.

Now let us thank the Eternal Power: convinced That Heaven but tries our virtue by affliction, That oft the cloud which wraps the present hour Serves but to brighten all our future days.

* * * * *

DAVID GARRICK. 1716-1779.

Prologue on Quitting the Stage in 1776, 10th of June.

Their cause I plead—plead it in heart and mind; A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind.

On the Death of Mr. Pelham.

Let others hail the rising sun: I bow to that whose race is run.

* * * * *

THOMAS GRAY. 1716-1771.

On a Distant Prospect of Eton College.

Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood strayed, A stranger yet to pain!

* * * * *

Alas! regardless of their doom, The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond to-day.

* * * * *

No more: where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

* * * * *

Progress of Poesy.

O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love.

* * * * *

Ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears. Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.

* * * * *

The Bard.

Give ample room, and verge enough.

* * * * *

Youth at the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.

* * * * *

Elegy in a Country Churchyard.

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

* * * * *

The short and simple annals of the poor.

* * * * *

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

* * * * *

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

* * * * *

Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

* * * * *

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

* * * * *

Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest.

And read their history in a nation's eyes.

* * * * *

Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

* * * * *

Along the cool, sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

* * * * *

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

* * * * *

And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.

* * * * *

Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind.

* * * * *

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes, live their wonted fires.

* * * * *

A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown.

* * * * *

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere.

* * * * *

He gave to misery (all he had) a tear.

* * * * *

The bosom of his Father and his God.

Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude.

The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.

* * * * *


Ode in 1746.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blessed!

* * * * *

By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there.

* * * * *

The Passions. Line 1.

When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung.

Line 10.

Filled with fury, rapt, inspired.

Line 28.

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.

Line 60.

In notes by distance made more sweet.

Line 68.

In hollow murmurs died away.

Line 95.

O Music! sphere-descended maid, Friend of pleasure, wisdom's aid!

* * * * *

Eclogue 1. Line 5.

Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell; 'Tis virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.

* * * * *

Ode on the Death of Thomson.

In yonder grave a Druid lies.

* * * * *

MARK AKENSIDE. 1721-1770.

Epistle to Curio.

The man forget not, though in rags he lies, And know the mortal through a crown's disguise.

* * * * *


The Fireside. St. 3.

If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies; And they are fools who roam: The world has nothing to bestow; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut—our home.

St. 13.

Thus hand in hand through life we'll go; Its checkered paths of joy and woe With cautious steps we'll tread.

* * * * *

JOHN HOME. 1722-1808.

Douglas. Act i. Sc. 1.

In the first days Of my distracting grief, I found myself As women wish to be who love their lords.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

My name is Norval; on the Grampian hills My father fed his flocks.

* * * * *



Line 1.

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow.

Line 7.

Where er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee.

Line 22.

And learn the luxury of doing good.

Line 26.

Some fleeting good that mocks me with the view.

Line 77.

Such is the patriot's boast, where er we roam, His first, best country ever is at home.

Line 153.

By sports like these are all his cares beguiled, The sports of children satisfy the child.

Line 172.

But winter lingering chills the lap of May.

Line 217.

So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar. But bind him to his native mountains more.

Line 251.

Alike all ages: dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze; And the gay grandsire, skilled in gestic lore, Has frisked beneath the burden of threescore.

Line 327.

Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by.

Line 372.

For just experience tells, in every soil, That those that think must govern those that toil.

Line 386.

Laws grind the poor, and rich men rule the law.

Line 409.

Forced from their homes, a melancholy train.

* * * * *


Line 14.

For talking age and whispering lovers made.

Line 51.

Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay, Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade, A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.

Line 62.

And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

Line 100.

A youth of labor with an age of ease.

Line 110.

While resignation gently slopes the way— And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past!

Line 122.

And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.

Line 141.

A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year.

Line 158.

Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.

Line 161.

Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.

Line 164.

And even his failings leaned to virtue's side.

Line 170.

Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.

Line 180.

And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.

Line 184.

And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.

Line 192.

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Line 196.

The village master taught his little school.

Line 203.

Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.

Line 212.

For even though vanquished, he could argue still; While words of learned length and thundering sound Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew That one small head could carry all he knew.

Line 229.

Contrived a double debt to pay.

Line 254.

One native charm than all the gloss of art.

Line 264.

The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy.

Line 329.

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn.

Line 385.

O Luxury! thou cursed by Heaven's decree.

* * * * *


Line 24.

Who mixed reason with pleasure and wisdom with mirth.

Line 31.

Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.

Line 37.

Though equal to all things, for all things unfit.

Line 94.

An abridgement of all that was pleasant in man.

* * * * *


Chapter viii. The Hermit.

Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.

* * * * *

Chapter xvii. Elegy on a Mad Dog.

The roan recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died.

* * * * *

Chapter xxiv.

When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy? What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, is—to die.

Elegy on Mrs. Mary Blaise.

The king himself has followed her When she has walked before.

* * * * *


Ode to Independence.

Thy spirit, Independence, let me share; Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye, Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.

* * * * *

THOMAS PERCY. 1728-1811.

Reliques of English Poetry. The Baffled Knight.

He that wold not when he might, He shall not when he wolda.

* * * * *

The Friar of Orders Gray.

Weep no more, lady, weep no more, Thy sorrow is in vain; For violets plucked the sweetest showers Will ne'er make grow again. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever; One foot on sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never.

From Byrd's Psalmes, Sonets, &c. 1588.

My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I find, As far exceeds all earthly bliss That God and Nature hath assigned. Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

* * * * *

BEILBY PORTEUS. 1731-1808.

Death, a Poem. Line 154.

One murder makes a villain, Millions a hero.

* * * * *

JAMES BEATTIE. 1735-1766.

The Minstrel. Book i. St. 1.

Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar?

* * * * *

The Hermit. Line 8. He thought as a sage, but he felt as a man.

* * * * *

Epigram. The Bucks had dined.

How hard their lot who neither won nor lost.


The Rosciad. Line 861.

But spite of all the criticising elves, Those who would make us feel—must feel themselves.

* * * * *

MRS. THEALE. 1740-1822.

Three Warnings.

The tree of deepest root is found Least willing still to quit the ground; 'Twas therefore said, by ancient sages, That love of life increased with years So much, that in our latter stages, When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages, The greatest love of life appears.

* * * * *

WILLIAM COWPER. 1731-1800.


Book i. The Sofa.

God made the county, and man made the town.[20]

[Note 20: "God the first garden made, and the first city Cain."—Cowley]

Book ii. The Timepiece.

O for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never roach me more.

* * * * *

Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else, Like kindred drops, been mingled into one.

* * * * *

England, with all thy faults, I love thee still.

* * * * *

Praise enough To fill the ambition of a private man, That Chatham's language was his mother tongue.

* * * * *

There is a pleasure in poetic pains Which only poets know.

* * * * *

Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.

* * * * *

Book iii. The Garden.

Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss Of Paradise that hast survived the fall!

How various his employments whom the world jails idle; and who justly in return Esteems that busy world an idler too!

* * * * *

Book iv. Winter Evening.

And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

* * * * *

'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd.

* * * * *

Book v. Winter Morn in a Walk.

He is the freeman whom the truth makes free.

* * * * *

Book vi. Winter Walk at Noon.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds; And as the mind is pitched, the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touched within us, and the heart replies.

* * * * *

Here the heart May give a useful lesson to the head, And Learning wiser grow without his books.


Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre, he that runs may read.

* * * * *


Built God a church, and laughed His word to scorn.

* * * * *

How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet.

* * * * *


A fool must now and then be right, by chance.

* * * * *

John Gilpin.

That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind.

* * * * *

To dash through thick and thin.

* * * * *

A hat not much the worse for wear

* * * * *

Lines to his Mother's Picture.

O that those lips had language! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last.

Walking with God.

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed? How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void, The world can never fill.

* * * * *

VERSES, Supposed to be Written by Alexander Selkirk.

I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute.

* * * * *

O Solitude! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face?

* * * * *

But the sound of the church-going bell Those valleys and rocks never heard, Never sighed at the sound of a knell, Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared.

* * * * *

How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light.

* * * * *

W. J. MICKLE. 1734-1788.

The Mariner's Wife.

His very foot has music in 't As he comes up the stairs.

JOHN LANGHORNE. 1735-1779.

The Country Justice.

Part i

Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew; The big drops, mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the sad presage of his future years, The child of misery, baptized in tears.

* * * * *

DR. WALCOTT. 1738-1819.

Peter Pindar's Expostulatory Odes to a great Duke and a little Lord. Ode XV.

Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt, And every grin, so merry, draws one out.

* * * * *

MRS. BARBAULD. 1743-1825.

Warrington Academy.

Man is the noblest growth our realms supply, And souls are ripened in our northern sky.

* * * * *


A Persian Song of Hafiz.

Go boldly forth, my simple lay, Whose accents flow with artless ease, Like orient pearls at random strung.

* * * * *

Ode in Imitation of Alcoeus.

What constitutes a state?

* * * * *

Men who their duties know, But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain.

* * * * *

And sovereign law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate, Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.

* * * * *

Seven hours to law, to soothing slumber seven, Ten to the world allot, and all to heaven.[21]

[Note 21: "Six hours in sleep, in law's grave study six, Four spend in prayer, the rest on nature fix."—Sir Edward Coke.]

* * * * *


Billy Pitt and the Farmer.

Solid men of Boston, make no long orations; Solid men of Boston, drink no deep potations.

* * * * *

JOHN TRUMBULL. 1750-1881.

McFingal. Canto i. Line 67.

But optics sharp it needs, I ween, To see what is not to be seen.

Canto iii. Line 489.

No man e'er felt the halter draw, With good opinion of the law.

* * * * *


The Rivals. Act v. Sc. 3.

As headstrong as an allegory on the banks of the Nile.

* * * * *

The Critic. Act ii. Sc. 1.

My valor is certainly going! it is sneaking off! I feel it oozing out as it were at the pain, of my hands.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Where they do agree, their unanimity is wonderful.

* * * * *

School for Scandal. Act i. Sc. 1.

You shall see a beautiful quarto page, where a neat rivulet of text shall meander through a meadow of margin.

Act iii. Sc. 3.

Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen; Here's to the widow of fifty; Here's to the flaunting, extravagant quean, And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. Let the toast pass; Drink to the lass; I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass.

The Duenna. Act i. Sc. 2.

I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip.

* * * * *

Speech in Reply to Mr. Dundas.

The Right Honorable gentleman is indebted to his memory for his jests and to his imagination for his facts.

* * * * *

GEORGE CRABBE. 1754-1832.

Parish Register.

Oh! rather give me commentators plain, Who with no deep researches vex the brain, Who from the dark and doubtful love to run, And hold their glimmering taper to the sun.

The Borough Schools.

Books cannot always please, however good; Minds are not ever craving for their food.

* * * * *

The Borough Placers.

In this fool's paradise lie drank delight.

* * * * *

The Birth of Flattery.

In idle wishes fools supinely stay; Be there a will, then wisdom finds a way.

* * * * *

ROBERT BURNS. 1759-1796.

Tom O'Shanter.

Where sits our sulky, sullen dame, Gather in' her brows like gatherin' storm, Nursin' her wrath to keep it warm.

* * * * *

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious, O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

* * * * *

But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flower, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white, then melts for ever. As Tammie gloured, amazed and curious, The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.

To a Mouse.

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley; An' lea'e us naught but grief and pain For promised joy.

* * * * *

Scots wha hae.

Let us do, or die!

* * * * *

Address to the Unco Guid.

Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler, sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrang To step aside is human.

* * * * *

On Captain Grose's Peregrinations through Scotland.

If there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede you tent it; A chiel's amang you takin' notes, An', faith, he'll prent it.

To a Louse.

O wad some power the giftie gie us, To see oursel's as others see us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us, An' foolish notion.

* * * * *

Epistle to a Young Friend.

The fear o' hell 's a hangman's whip To haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honor grip, Let that aye be your border.

* * * * *

The Twa Dogs.

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar Shawed him the gentleman and scholar.

* * * * *

Epistle to James Smith.

O Life! how pleasant in thy morning, Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning! Cold, pausing Caution's lesson scorning, We frisk away, Like schoolboys at th' expected warning. To joy and play.

* * * * *


O Life! them art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches such as I!

Auld Lang Syne.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' lang syne?

* * * * *

Green grow the Rashes.

Her 'prentice han' she tried on man. And then she made the lasses, O!

* * * * *

Man was made to Mourn.

Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn.

* * * * *

Death and Dr. Hornbook.

Some wee short hour ayont the twal.

* * * * *

Is there for honest Poverty.

The rank is but the guinea's stamp.

The man's the gowd for a' that.

* * * * *

A prince can mak' a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a that: But an honest man's aboon his might, Guid faith, he maunna fa' that.

The Cotter's Saturday Night.

He wales a portion with judicious care; And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.

* * * * *


The Beggar.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.

* * * * *

GEORGE COLMAN. 1762-1836.


The Maid of the Moor.

And what's impossible can't be, And never, never comes to pass.

* * * * *

Three stories high, long, dull, and old, As great lord's stories often are.

* * * * *

Lodgings for Single Gentlemen.

But when ill indeed, E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed.

The Poor Gentleman.

Act i. Sc. 2.

Thank you, good sir, I owe you one.

* * * * *

Prologue to the Heir ft Law.

On their own merits modest men are dumb.

* * * * *

THOMAS MORTON. 1764-1836.

Speed the Plough. Act i. Sc. 1.

What will Mrs. Grundy say?

* * * * *

GEORGE CANNING. 1770-1827.


The Needy Knife-Grinder.

Story! God bless you, I have none to tell, sir!

* * * * *

I give thee sixpence! I will see thee d—d first.

* * * * *

The Loves of the Triangles.

Line 178.

So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourne, glides The Derby dilly, carrying three insides.


Quilt and Sorrow.

St. 41.

And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.

* * * * *

My Heart Leaps up.

The Child is father of the Man.

* * * * *

Lucy Gray.

St. 2.

The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door.

* * * * *

We are Seven.

A simple Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death?

* * * * *

The Pet Lamb.

Drink, pretty creature, drink.

* * * * *

The Brothers.

Until a man might travel twelve stout miles, Or reap an acre of his neighbor's corn.

Stanzas written in Thomson.

A noticeable man, with large gray eyes.

* * * * *


She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and oh! The difference to me!

* * * * *

The Solitary Reaper.

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again.

* * * * *

The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.

Rob Hoy's Grave.

St. 9.

Because the good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, And they should keep who can.

Yarrow Unvisited.

The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!

* * * * *

Sonnets to National Independence and Liberty.

Part i. vi

Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great is passed away.

Part i. xiv.

Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart.

Part i. xvi.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.

* * * * *


One of those heavenly days that cannot die.

She was a Phantom of Delight.

A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles; Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

* * * * *

A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command.

* * * * *

I Wandered Lonely.

That inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude.

* * * * *


A Youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.

* * * * *

Resolution and Independence.

Part i. St. 7

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride; Of him who walked in glory and in joy, Following his plough, along the mountainside.

* * * * *

Hart-Leap Well.

Part ii

"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old! But something ails it now: the spot is cursed." Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.

* * * * *

Tintern Abbey.

Sensations sweet Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.

* * * * *

That best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love.

* * * * *

That blessed mood, In which the burden of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened.

* * * * *

The fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.

* * * * *

The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colors and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm By thoughts supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye. But hearing often-times The still, sad music of humanity.

* * * * *

To a Skylark.

Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home.

* * * * *

Peter Bell.

Prologue. St. 1.

There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.

Prologue. St. 27.

The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me—her tears, her mirths Her humblest mirth and tears.

Part i. St. 12.

A primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.

Part i. St. 15.

The soft blue sky did never melt Into his heart; he never felt The witchery of the soft blue sky!

Part i. St. 26.

As if the man had fixed his face, In many a solitary place, Against the wind and open sky!

Miscellaneous Sonnets.

Part i. xxx.

The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration.

Part i. xxxiii.

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.

Part i. xxxv.

'Tis hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of Faith, and round the Sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.

Part ii. xxxvi.

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

* * * * *

Ecclesiastical Sonnets.

Part iii. v. Walton's Book of Lives.

The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an Angel's wing.

* * * * *

Meek Walton's heavenly memory.

The Tables Turned.

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books, Or surely you'll grow double: Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble?

* * * * *

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

* * * * *

A Poet's Epitaph.

St. 5.

One that would peep and botanize Upon his mother's grave.

* * * * *

Personal Talk.

St. 3.

The gentle Lady married to the Moor, And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb.

* * * * *

The Small Celandine. (From Poems referring to the Period of Old Age.)

To be a Prodigal's Favorite—then, worse truth, A Miser's Pensioner—behold our lot!

Elegiac Stanzas suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm.

St. 4.

The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

* * * * *

Intimations of Immorality.

St 5.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

* * * * *

But trailing clouds of glory, do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

St. xi.

To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

* * * * *


Book i.

The vision and the faculty divine.

* * * * *

The imperfect offices of prayer and praise.

* * * * *

The good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket.

Book ii.

With battlements, that on their restless fronts Bore stars.

Book iii.

Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.

* * * * *

Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.

Book iv.

I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.

* * * * *

One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.

Book vi.

Spires whose silent fingers point to heaven.

Book vii.

Wisdom married to immortal verse.

Book ix.

The primal duties shine aloft, like stars, The charities, that soothe, and heal, and bless, Are scattered at the feet of Man, like flowers.

* * * * *


Lines to Lady A. Hamilton.

Too late I stayed—forgive the crime; Unheeded flew the hours. How noiseless falls the foot of time, That only treads on flowers!

* * * * *


When all the blandishments of life are gone, The coward sneaks to death, the brave live on.

* * * * *


The Ancient Mariner.

Part i.

And listens like a three years' child.

Part ii.

We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea. As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.

* * * * *

Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.

Part iv.

Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea.

Part v.

A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy mouth of June.

Part vii.

He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast.

* * * * *

He prayeth best, who loveth best All things, both great and small.

* * * * *

A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.

* * * * *

Christabel. Part ii.

Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth: And constancy lives in realms above.

The Devil's Thoughts.

And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin, Is pride that apes humility.

* * * * *


All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feeds his sacred flame.

* * * * *

Reflections on having left a Place of Retirement.

Blest hour! it was a luxury—to be!

* * * * *

Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni.

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star In his steep course?

* * * * *

Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines.

* * * * *

Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!

* * * * *

Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.

* * * * *

The Three Graves.

A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.

The Visit of the Gods.

Never, believe me, Appear the Immortals, Never alone.

* * * * *

The Knight's Tomb.

The Knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust; His soul is with the saints, I trust.

* * * * *

On Taking Leave of—. 1817. To know, to esteem, to love—and then to part, Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart!

* * * * *


The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, nymphs! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?

* * * * *


Part i. Act ii. Sc. 4.

The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and watery depths; all these have vanished; They live no longer in the faith of reason.

* * * * *

The Death of Wallenstein.

Act. v. Sc. 1.

Clothing the palpable and familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn.

Act v. Sc. 1.

Often do the spirits Of great events stride on before the events. And in to-day already walks to-morrow.

* * * * *

ROBERT SOUTHEY. 1774-1843.

Curse of Kehama. Canto x.

They sin who tell us love can die. With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity.

* * * * *

CHARLES LAMB. 1775-1834.

Old Familiar Faces.

I have had playmates, 1 have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

Detached Thoughts on Books.

Books which are no books.

* * * * *


Pleasures of Hope.

Part i. Line 7.

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

Line 359.

O Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save.

Line 381.

Hope for a season bade the world farewell, And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell!

* * * * *

O'er Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below.

Part ii. Line 5.

Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name?

Line 23.

Without the smile from partial beauty won, Of what were man?—a world without a sun.

Line 37.

The world was sad!—the garden was a wild! And man, the hermit, sighed—till woman smiled.

Line 45.

While Memory watches o'er the sad review Of joys that faded like the morning dew.

Line 95.

There shall he love, when genial mom appears, Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.

Line 194.

That gems the starry girdle of the year.

Line 263.

Melt, and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!

Line 325.

O star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there, To waft us home the message of despair?

Line 377.

What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel-visits, few and far between.

O'Connor's Child.

Another's sword has laid him low, Another's and another's; And every hand that dealt the blow, Ah me! it was a brother's!

Lochiel's Warning.

'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.

Ye Mariners of England.

Ye mariners of England! That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze.

* * * * *

Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.

* * * * *

The Soldier's Dream.

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young. But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

* * * * *


The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave!

Gertrude of Wyoming.

Part iii. St. 1.

O love! in such a wilderness as this.

* * * * *

WALTER SCOTT. 1771-1832.


Canto ii. St. 1.

If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight.

Canto ii. St. 12.

I was not always a man of woe.

Canto ii. St. 22.

I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

Canto iii. St. 2.

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

Canto v. St. 1.

Call it not vain; they do not err, Who say, that, when the poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshiper, And celebrates his obsequies.

Canto v. St. 13.

True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven. It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.

Canto vi. St. 1.

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned Prom wandering on a foreign strand?

* * * * *

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

Canto vi. St. 2.

O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood; Land of the mountain and the flood.

* * * * *


Canto ii. St. 27.

'Tis an old tale, and often told.

Canto v. St. 12.

With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.

Canto vi. St. 14.

And dar'st thou then To beard the lion in his den?

Canto vi. St. 30,

O woman! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made, When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!

Canto vi. St. 32.

Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on! Were the last words of Marmion.

Canto vi. Last Lines.

To all, to each, a fair good night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light,

* * * * *

The Lady of the Lake.

Canto i. St. 18.

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A nymph, a naiad, or a grace, Of finer form or lovelier face.

* * * * *

A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew.

Canto i. St. 21.

On his bold visage middle age Had slightly pressed its signet sage.

Canto ii. St. 22.

Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.

Canto iv. St. 1.

The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.

Canto iv. St. 30.

Art thou a friend to Roderick?

Canto v. St. 10.

Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.

* * * * *

And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.

* * * * *

The Lord of the Isles.

Canto v. Stanza 18.

O many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark, the archer little meant! And many a word at random spoken May soothe, or wound, a heart that's broken!

* * * * *

Old Mortality.

Vol. ii. Chapter xxi.

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.

Bob Roy.

Vol. i. Chapter ii.

O for the voice of that wild horn On Fontarabian echoes borne.

* * * * *

The Monastery.

Vol. i. Chapter ii.

Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!

* * * * *

THOMAS MOORE. 1780-1852.

Lalla Rookh. The Fire-Worshippers.

O, ever thus from childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away.

* * * * *

The Light of the Harem.

Alas! how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love! Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea, When heaven was all tranquillity.

All that's bright must fade.

All that's bright must fade— The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.

* * * * *

Farewell! But whenever you welcome the hour.

You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

* * * * *

REGINALD HEBER. 1783-1826.

Christman Hymn.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.

* * * * *

Missionary Hymn.

From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand, Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand.

* * * * *


No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung; Like some tall palm, the mystic fabric sprung. Majestic silence!


Epilogue to Cato.

Written for the Bow Street Theatre, Portsmouth, N. H., 1778.

No pent-up Utica contracts your powers, But the whole boundless continent is yours.

* * * * *


The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.

* * * * *

LORD BYRON. 1788-1821.

Childe Harold.

Canto i. St. 9.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.

Canto ii. St. 2.

A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!

* * * * *

Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.

Stanza 6.

The dome of Thought, the palace of the soul.

Stanza 23.

Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

Stanza 73.

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!

Stanza 76.

Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not, Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow?

Stanza 88.

Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted, holy ground.

* * * * *

Age shakes Athena's towers, but spares gray Marathon.

Canto iii. St. 1.

Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.

Stanza 21.

There was a sound of revelry by night. And all went merry as a marriage-bell.

Stanza 28.

Battle's magnificently stern array!

Stanza 55.

The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine.

Stanza 92.

The sky is changed! and such a change! O night, And storm, and darkness! ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman.

Stanza 113.

I have not loved the world, nor the world me.

Canto iv. St. 1.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs.

Stanza 24.

The cold—the changed—perchance the dead anew, The mourned—the loved—the lost—too many! yet how few!

Stanza 49.

Fills The air around with beauty.

Stanza 69.

The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss.

Stanza 79.

The Niobe of nations! there she stands.

Stanza 109.

Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.

Stanza 115.

The nympholepsy of some fond despair.

Stanza 145.

While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Home falls, the world.[22]

[Note 22: The exclamation of the pilgrims in the eighth century is recorded by the Venerable Bede]

Stanza 177.

O that the desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And, hating no one, love but only her!

Stanza 178.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes By the deep Sea, and music in its roar.

* * * * *

I love not Man the less, but Nature more.

Stanza 179.

Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown.

Stanza 185.

And what is writ, is writ. Would it were worthier!

Memoranda from his Life.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous.

* * * * *

The Giaour. Line 72.

Before decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.

Line 92.

So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there.

Line 106.

Shrine of the mighty! can it be That this is all remains of thee?

Line 123.

For freedom's battle, once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won.

Line 418.

And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own; And every won a tear can claim, Except an erring sister's shame.

* * * * *

Parasina. St. 1.

It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whispered word.

The Bride of Abydos.

Canto i. St. 1.

Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle.

Stanza 6.

The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonized the whole And oh! that eye was in itself a soul!

Canto ii. St. 20.

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!

* * * * *

He makes a solitude, and calls it—peace.[23]

[Note 23: "Solitudinem fociunt—pacem appellant." —Tacitus, Agricola, cap. 30.]


I had a dream which was not all a dream.

* * * * *


Canto i. St. 2.

Lord of himself—that heritage of woe!

The Corsair.

Canto i. St. 1.

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea; Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home.

Stanza 3.

She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.

Stanza 8.

The power of Thought—the magic of the Mind.

* * * * *

The many still must labor for the one!

Stanza 9.

There was a laughing devil in his sneer. Hope withering fled, and Mercy sighed Farewell!

Stanza 15.

Farewell! For in that word—that fatal word—howe'er We promise—hope—believe—there breathes despair.

Canto iii. St. 22.

No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.

Stanza 24.

He left a corsair's name to other times, Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.

* * * * *


Stanza 27.

For most men (till by losing rendered sager) Will back their own opinions by a wager.

Stanza 45.

Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.

Stanza 80.

O Mirth and Innocence! O Milk and Water! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days!

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